


i'll take care of you

by missbolton



Series: soft andreil [4]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew Minyard Has Feelings, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Neil taking care of his bf :'), Protective Andrew Minyard, Soft Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, bandaging the other up after a fight, mentions of d--ke, second chapter is from aarons pov, why am i crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-06 20:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15202985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbolton/pseuds/missbolton
Summary: “Andrew. Let me bandage your hand. Yes or no?”It takes a few seconds, but Andrew grits out: “Yes.”





	1. andrew and neil

**Author's Note:**

> okay so I've developed a real adoration for the healthy twinyard relationship recently. My actual SON aaron minyard deserves so much better than my horrible writing, but i did my best.
> 
> this is basically 60 percent Andrew being difficult and 40 percent Andrew being in love

Andrew’s hand is hanging between his knees, limp and bloody. He doesn’t acknowledge his split knuckles apart from an occasional testing flex of his fingers. Thankfully, nothing looks broken, but Neil can’t quite tell whether it’s causing him pain or not.

Andrew’s barriers are high tonight. It had settled into place the second they’d gotten back to the house. Andrew had been fighting with his emotions for the whole car journey, hands tight around the steering wheel despite the state of his hand.

Now the familiar apathy is back in place. This detachment is Andrew’s method of coping with strangling emotions, Neil knows that, but he can’t help but feel so fucking useless as he hesitantly trails up to the bedroom.

Getting into a fight hadn't been the plan for this evening. Aaron’s temper is usually subdued by copious alcohol consumption, but it wasn’t far enough into the night for him to be agreeable. If only the man could have waited an hour or two. The details of the verbal argument are a bit fuzzy. Whether it was a Ravens fan or just an asshole, Neil didn’t get to find out. He was off getting drinks with Andrew when he looked over and saw commotion.

“What’s going on?” Neil had asked, but Andrew’s focus was elsewhere.

There was heated shouting; Aaron shoved the guy backwards. Nicky was trying to stop things from escalating, but putting himself in Aaron’s path meant he was shoved away and collided with Kevin. Neil doesn’t remember seeing Andrew move, but the second the guy threw a punch, Andrew was there.

The guy was kicked out, but they didn’t stay long after it. They are all sporting different injuries and equal foul moods. Nicky has a bruised arm from being shoved around. Aaron has a split lip from the punch. Andrew has bleeding, bruised knuckles and his eye is starting to bruise. Neil and Kevin are physically unharmed, but the tense atmosphere pulls them into the discomfort as well.

Now they’re back at the house, Aaron, Nicky and Kevin are in the kitchen. By the sound of it, Kevin and Aaron have gotten into an argument about something and Nicky is trying to ease things. Neil is thankful he is up here, locked away from the chaos with Andrew by his side.

But Andrew is hurting. He won’t show it outright, but Neil isn’t unobservant. Andrew’s edges are frayed and raw.

Neil hasn’t said anything yet. He wants to soothe Andrew’s pain with soft kisses and reassuring touches, but he doesn’t have to say ‘no’ for Neil to sense it. Any ideas of kisses or sex are thrown out of the window for tonight. That had been apparent from the second Andrew had gotten into the Maserati with a fierce glare in his eyes, a glare meant for someone else.

Eventually, quietly, he says, “Can I clean you up?” with a pointed look to Andrew’s injured hand.

Andrew looks at him flatly. Luckily, there’s no blood on the blankets, but it’s dribbling down his wrist and is threatening to drip off.

“It could get infected,” Neil adds, although Andrew is perfectly aware of that. He just wants to fill the silence with something other than tension.

“I don’t care.”

“Can I bandage it?”

“Do what the fuck you want.”

“Andrew.” Neil’s tone is calm, searching. Andrew’s eyes look up to him and finally he notices something stir in them. They are dark and angry, but Neil knows that the anger isn’t meant for him. “Let me bandage your hand. Yes or no?”

It takes a few seconds, but Andrew grits out: “Yes.”

Trying not to outwardly show his relief, Neil heads downstairs to get the first aid kit. The others have stopped arguing now, but Aaron still doesn’t look pleased by the blood which has dried on his chin. Nicky is armed with a wet washcloth which Neil assumes is an attempt to clean it up, but Aaron is adamantly not letting Nicky touch him with it. In any other scenario, it would be a funny scene to walk into, especially with Kevin pouring himself more to drink in the corner like an overly stressed mother, but Neil can’t find it in him to smile now. 

When Nicky greets Neil, Aaron scowls even more.

“How’s your lip?” Neil asks Aaron, although he doesn’t really care about the answer. Aaron’s cut is shallow. It might sting a bit, but Aaron will be perfectly fine by tomorrow.

“Fine,” Aaron replies shortly.

“How’s Andrew’s hand?” Nicky asks. “It looked pretty bad.”

“It’s not broken, but it needs bandaging. You got a first aid kit?”

“Yeah, sure,” Nicky says, handing Neil a box filled with bandages and other first aid things. Neil looks at it for a second, briefly lingering on the stinging pain of his mother’s rough hands stitching up his wounds before finding his voice.

“Thanks.”

Nicky just smiles good-naturedly.

Just as he’s about to turn and leave, Aaron says, “He didn’t have to do that.”

His voice is a strange tone.

Neil pauses and turns. “Do what?”

Aaron avoids all eye contact whilst speaking. The floor suddenly becomes his prime interest. He seems like he regrets saying anything bit it's too late to back out now. “Protect me.”

Neil isn’t sure what to say to that. Aaron is right - Andrew doesn’t have to fight Aaron’s battles for him anymore, not since the deal is over. 

“He’s your brother,” Neil says. It’s not quite an explanation, but at the same time it is.

“The deal is over.”

“You’re right.” Neil doesn’t understand how Aaron misses the point of his own brother's intentions quite so clearly. “But I’m sure that you getting your jaw broken would have made the night much worse, so you could be grateful.”

Aaron does a strange little thing - not quite a laugh, but some degree of humour within his scowl. “Fuck off. I am.”

“You’re what?”

Aaron shoots him a glare which could start a fire. “Don’t make me fucking say it.”

“He’s grateful,” Nicky interjects, who is holding an ice pack to his own injury.

Neil feels a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, but then the first aid kit in his hands reminds him of Andrew, upstairs and bleeding and angry. Neil irons out his expression and shoots a, “See you tomorrow,” over his shoulder. The only one who returns it is Nicky.

When he gets back upstairs, Andrew is still in the same position, but the hard lines of his body seem marginally less tense. Maybe Neil should sleep on the couch tonight. Although Neil doesn't want to leave him up here, alone time seems to do Andrew better than another presence.

He sits on the side of the bed. Andrew just stares.

“Can you come to the bathroom?”

Although he doesn’t say anything, Andrew swings his legs over the edge of the bed and marches into the bathroom. He is still wearing his shoes.

Once they’re in the bathroom with Andrew sat on the side of the bathtub, Neil holds his hand out in an offering.

“Can I?”

He nods curtly. Neil takes his hand and holds it gently, keeping his touch clinical and light. Two of his knuckles are split and bruising, but Andrew doesn’t betray any pain when some blood is wiped away with a warm, damp cloth. The white cloth comes away with blood and Neil remembers, with a stab of affection, when the roles were reversed and Andrew was taking care of him after Baltimore.

Wetting the cloth more, Neil cleans the blood off of Andrew’s hand. When he nears the ugly gashes on his knuckles, Neil tries to be as soft as he can, but even that isn’t enough to stop Andrew’s eyebrows from pinching together in discomfort.

“Sorry.”

He makes a vague noise in the back of his throat. Neil can’t tell if it’s reprimanding or reassuring, but he doesn’t pull his hand from Neil’s grip.

“What even happened?”

“You saw.”

“I didn’t see all of it. I saw Aaron get hit, but not what happened before that.”

Andrew shuts his eyes for a few seconds. When he opens them, they are sharp and angry and dark. Neil doesn’t think Andrew’s going to grace him with a response until he manages to talk, voice strained. Divulging emotions has always been difficult for Andrew. He prefers to show his feelings through his actions - shielding, protecting, touching.

“That guy was close. Too close.”

It takes Neil a second to figure out what Andrew means by ‘too close’. When it clicks, he sort of wishes it hadn’t.

There are very few things which get to Andrew enough to break him like that. Neil remembers Andrew telling him about Drake’s twisted words. About wanting a matched set. The words had made Neil’s insides crawl when he was told about them, and he can only imagine how they must have fucked with Andrew.

It also explains the black eye. Usually, Andrew is careful enough to hit someone without getting hit back. He hits them once, hard, and then when they’re down, he keeps them there. But when he saw what was happening, Andrew must have lost control and ignored the fists flying back in his direction.

“Oh,” is all Neil says. That is all he needs to say.

He cleans off the last of the blood and wraps Andrew’s hand in a bandage. He keeps his eyes firmly on the task, not wanting to slip up and end up hurting him, but Andrew’s eyes feel heavy as they’re focused on him.

Something deep stirs inside of him when he finally meets Andrew’s gaze. He isn’t sure whether it’s the desire to protect him, shield him from the world or whether he wants to kiss him until their lips are both numb. But he shoves that far, far down. Andrew is angry and vulnerable and kissing will only serve to bring up more traumatic memories. There’s been enough of those tonight.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Neil offers.

Andrew reaches forward and smooths down a stray bit of Neil’s hair. He mulls over the suggestion, fingers light, and eventually says, “No.”

Although he wasn’t expecting that answer, Neil nods, refusing to question the decision. Andrew never says anything he doesn’t mean. He never gives away anything he doesn’t want to. Neil always feels warm and strange inside when he is trusted enough to give him those things, things which had been off limits to everybody else.

After a few idle seconds pass by, with Andrew’s uninjured hand still smoothing down the same strand of hair, Neil says, “You need to ice your eye.” His voice feels far too loud and it snaps the silence they were comfortable in, but his eye will be horribly swollen by tomorrow if he doesn’t ice it tonight.

Andrew levels a flat stare in his direction, although he knows that. He’s the one holding the ice pack to Neil’s face most times.

“I can get you something for the pain,” he adds. It’s pointless to even offer.

“No.”

Neil knows that he doesn’t like taking anything. He doesn't push it.

“Okay. I’ll get you an ice pack.”

Before he hurries back downstairs, Andrew uses his unbandaged hand to pull Neil in. He kisses him. It isn't soft or slow or sweet, but Neil recognises the simple touch as the _thankyou_ which Andrew intended but would never say out loud.

* * *

The next morning, Andrew opens his eyes, one of them aching more than the other. His hand and the side of his face are throbbing with dull pain, but it’s bearable. He’s been through much worse pain. A few bruises are no trouble.

Neil has always been a light sleeper, so the second he feels Andrew shift around, his eyes open. His eyes are always icy and sharp when he first opens his eyes, but after a few seconds of staring at Andrew, they become soft and calm, like the stretch of the settled sea over the horizon.

“Morning,” Neil says, a small smile twisting at his lips. Andrew feels a warm ache in his chest which has nothing to do with the fight last night.

Andrew lets his eyes float down to Neil’s shoulder, where the collar of his oversized sleep shirt has slipped down. When he feels Neil's eyes fix on his cheek, he murmurs, “Staring," ignoring the total hypocrisy of that statement.

“Mhm. Yeah.”

“Fucking stop it,” Andrew says, shoving Neil with his foot, although there’s no heat in his voice. If anything, he sounds far too affectionate. Neil must notice and hides his smile. Resisting the urge to lean forward and kiss him, Andrew just pulls the covers more over him and says, “What’s the time?"

“Nine.”

“You didn’t go on a run.”

Neil hums noncommittally. He’s not hungover. He barely drank anything the night before. There’s no good reason for him to skip his run.

“Why not.”

“Didn’t feel like it.”

That’s a lie. Andrew knows why Neil remained behind. After the fight last night, memories could have resurfaced, about Drake and Aaron and Cass and Tilda, and he wanted to be there just in case Andrew got lost in his own caustic thoughts.

But Neil doesn’t know what a calming effect _just_ his presence has. Andrew has never liked using people as coping mechanisms, but Neil’s deep eyes and smooth voice and the uneven battleground of his skin works to battle his demons better than anything else ever has.

That should scare him. It just floods him with something strange, something which pulls at his stomach until he feels the overwhelming urge to press close to Neil, skin to skin and mouth to mouth.

“How’s your hand?”

Andrew just looks at him.

“If it’s swollen really badly, you could have - hurt something.”

“I’m not going to a hospital.”

“What if you need to?”

Andrew glares harder. “I don’t fucking need to.”

“How is it?” Neil asks again.

Andrew sighs heavily, his ire obvious in his furrowed eyebrows. “It’s fine.”

“What about your face?”

“Neil.”

Neil huffs out a breath, something similar to a laugh but with a fair amount of annoyance buried in it. “You could have done something. I’m just checking.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me.”

There’s a moment which they seem to share the same memory. Andrew remembers when Neil came back from his father as a broken man, covered in burns and bandages. He remembers holding Neil up physically whilst Neil held him up emotionally.

Andrew feels the awful, strangling emotions which he felt when Neil had disappeared begin to rise like bile. His chest clenches and his fists follow, balling into fists -

But it passes, disappearing into the air quicker than a whisper. He relaxes again. Neil is here right now, blue eyes flashing as they stare into Andrew's, simple adoration written onto his face.

Neil’s eyes crinkle in a smile. “That’s what we do, right? You take care of me, I take care of you.”

“Shut up,” Andrew growls.

It is _not_ true. Andrew had to hold Neil up because of their deal, nothing more. He agreed to protect Neil and his continuation of that promise has got absolutely _nothing_ to do with the influx of warm feelings which make him feel like he’s hanging off the edge of a cliff. Neil is nothing, this is nothing, they are -

“Make me,” Neil says softly.

His thoughts seem to evaporate and he’s left with absolutely no choice but to kiss away Neil’s smile.

* * *

If he lets Neil rebandage his knuckles later that morning, nobody has to know.

And he _definitely_ doesn’t enjoy it when Neil holds ice to his eye, fingers combing through his hair at the same time.

_You take care of me, I take care of you._

The words feel dangerous. Too close. Too heartfelt.

But Andrew relishes the little thrill he gets from it, as if he’s turning around to the universe and saying _fuck you_ , _I’m happy_ , as if he’s escaping the box he’s confined himself to. He’s found something worth keeping, something he can take care of.

 _Forever_ always seemed like dream. Anything good which Andrew had is snatched away in a cruel twist of fate, but Neil is still here. Neil has been here for a year now, always present with kisses and questions, cigarettes and respect.

Although he doesn't like to hope for things due to the inevitable disappointment, Andrew finds his emotions spiralling beyond his control. He promptly stamps it back down, but the glimmer of hope which flutters over him doesn't disappear for a long time. It lingers in the air, hovering above them -  _I want this forever_.


	2. aaron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to add this. this includes twinyard angsty ish bonding, aaron and katelyn being in love (I just??? LOVE those hets) and aaron minyard being confused
> 
> also katelyn is called katelyn chapman now. I stole it from orange is the new black but that's her new name okay??? i make the rules now

The car journey back is tense.

Aaron risks glances at Andrew, but his brother is staring ahead, his split knuckles looking painful as they grip the steering wheel. Josten is looking at Andrew as well, trying to hide his outward concern. Nicky and Kevin are both looking out the windows, desperate to escape the thick, suffocating atmosphere.

He hadn’t asked Andrew to jump in and fight off the guy, but there had been no time to tell him to stop. Aaron hadn’t known the guy, but the guy seemed to want to know him - his hand had been bordering on uncomfortable, brushing past Aaron’s shoulder as he introduced himself as Fred.

“But it’s Freddie if we’re dating,” he added, eyes burning holes into the side of Aaron’s face.

Aaron had deadpanned, “Go away.”

But Fred wasn’t going anywhere. Eventually, when his fingers swept behind Aaron’s ear, playing with a strand of hair there, Aaron had stood up to his full height - which, admittedly, isn’t much - and sharply told him to fuck off.

For whatever reason, Fred seemed more encouraged by Aaron’s defiance. _I like ‘em feisty_ , he had said and stepped forwards, leaning down, a hand skimming Aaron’s ass. Disgust rose in the back of his throat and Aaron was shoving the man backwards before he made the conscious decision to do anything.

“What the _fuck_?”

His mind was ringing sharply - _threat threat threat_ \- and he wasn’t sure whether it was anger or panic brewing a storm in his chest. It was a mix of both, throwing him into a desperate state of mind, his only thought to get away before something bad happens -

“Wait! Aaron -” Nicky said, leaping up in front of Aaron to cool things down.

Kevin, who had reluctantly followed, came up on Aaron’s other side. He wouldn’t have been much help if it did escalate, anyway. Kevin was wobbling dangerously on his feet, already drunk to the point of stumbling over.

“Come on, baby,” the guy said, his breath reeking of vodka, “we’re just having fun, right?”

“Get off me and _fuck off_ .” Aaron went in for another shove, but Nicky jumped in front of him. He pushed Nicky too, who collided with Kevin. Kevin grabbed onto Nicky to keep upright and they both stumbled together, grabbing each other’s elbows for support. Aaron didn’t care. At that moment, all he saw was the guy, a predator on his radar who he was going to fucking _end_.

Who even was this bastard? What right did he have to come up and start being all touchy? Nicky was a bit flirty with strangers, perhaps borderline annoying, but he would never be like this.

Things became louder and more people started to look. Eventually, once Fred deduced that nothing was going to happen with Aaron, his pervy smile melted into a glare.

“Fuck off, then, you prude.”

More shoving. More of Nicky’s voice saying, “ _Stop it_ , Aaron, you’re going to get hurt.” More shouting. Louder shouting. Fred was saying all sorts of shit, slurring around curses and slurs and spit flying from his mouth -

When the guy started using fists, Aaron was frozen for a second. The first punch stuck him on the mouth, and he felt his lip split and hot blood dribble down his chin. He went to dodge the second one but no blow came - instead, Andrew seemed to appear from thin air, grabbing he guy’s wrist and twisting it. Aaron always knew Andrew was strong - he benches an insane amount. But he’d never expected Andrew have such lightning reflexes, twisting the guy’s wrist around and knocking his head back with one hard, perfectly aimed hit. Even when he was down, Andrew had hit again, harder, until his knuckles were split and the guy’s mouth was bloody and gross.

Aaron had done nothing but watch, half horrified and half relieved. But he couldn’t stop asking the same question over and over - why had Andrew done that? He didn’t need to.

Thankfully, the guy was kicked out. Being regulars at Eden’s Twilight has perks, but they didn’t stay long after it anyway. The mood was too sour and the napkins provided by the staff haven’t really done anything to stop the bleeding. Aaron needed an aspirin or something. Andrew’s knuckles are bleeding and bruised. Nicky is clutching his arm from where it must have gotten caught.

When they get back to the house, Josten and Andrew fuck off upstairs. Well, Andrew marches upstairs, and Josten trails behind him, looking like a kicked puppy but determined to fix things.

They get into the kitchen, and Kevin reaches for more drink.

“Why are you always fucking drinking?” Aaron snaps, irritation high. His throbbing lip isn’t helping his mood. “Haven’t you had enough?”

“We left early.”

“We usually leave around this time, anyway,” Aaron snaps. “Why have you got to be _so_ pathetic?”

“Aaron,” chides Nicky.

“What? He can’t go fifteen minutes without a drink.”

“We’re out.”

“Not anymore.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Kevin has the audacity to point out, pointing a finger at Aaron.

“It’s not _my_ fault either! I didn’t ask for some asshole to come up and start _molesting_ me, did I?”

“You didn’t have to be quite so - aggressive.” He enunciates every word strangely, and Aaron wants him to drink until he passes out so he won’t have to deal with him. God, Kevin’s such a _dick_.

“He wasn’t going to leave me alone. Thanks for the help, by the way,” he adds, shooting a filthy glare at Kevin.

“Guys, come on,” Nicky says, trying to smooth things out.

Kevin scowls, replying “He started it,” like the five year old he is at heart.

“No, that _piece of shit_ started it.”

They exchange a few more barbed words, ones which increase in volume until Aaron knows they can be heard from upstairs. But Nicky effectively ends it by wetting a cloth, holding it out at Aaron and saying, “Let me wipe your face,” so Aaron’s attention switches from Kevin to Nicky, who comes at him a few times.

“Don’t, Nicky,” he warns. Nicky circles around the kitchen with it and Aaron dodges his attempts.

“Let me clean it.”

Aaron dodges his next lunge, pushing a chair in front of Nicky so he can’t approach him. “ I said don’t. Fuck off.”

“Come on, Aaron, the blood looks all gross on your chin.”

“ _Don’t_ touch me with that. It’s dirty.”

“It’s not _dirty_ -”

“You don’t know that.”

“But I got it wet.”

“That doesn’t stop it from being fucking dirty,” Aaron says, exasperated. He is safe from Nicky now, as he would have get round to chair in order to touch him with that gross ass cloth. But knowing Nicky, he could throw it, and Aaron would get hit by a wet, dirty cloth that has probably been used for all sorts of shit.

Seconds later, Josten appears in the doorway. Aaron hates him, but he hates the sad set of his shoulders more, as if he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Hey, Neil,” Nicky says warmly.

“Hey,” he replies. He looks at Aaron, who is still keeping a watchful eye on Nicky with the wet cloth. He asks, “How’s your lip?” although it’s obvious he’s more curious than sympathetic. Josten is far too busy being worried about Andrew.

“Fine,” Aaron replies shortly.

“How’s Andrew’s hand?” Nicky asks. “It looked pretty bad.”

“It’s not broken, but it needs bandaging.” Aaron feels relief flutter in his chest. He wouldn’t want to be responsible, even though he would deny caring until he was blue in the face.

Josten asks for a first aid kit and Nicky hands him one. Josten stares at it for a second, contemplating something, before saying, “Thanks.” He still looks fucking miserable. It wasn’t him who got touched up at Edens. It wasn’t him who got punched on the lip.

Just as he’s about to turn and leave, Aaron blurts out, “He didn’t have to do that.”

Josten pauses and turns. “Do what?”

Aaron clears his throat, feeling sort of stupid for even talking. He can’t seem to look at Josten right now. He stares at the floor and grits out, “Protect me.”

The deal is over. Andrew chose Josten. Aaron got Katelyn. They can live their lives separate, not tied to an exhausting deal which only serves to hurt them more than it does them any good. Now, he feels almost in debt to Andrew, as if the deal hasn’t ever been broken after all. Andrew is still protecting him and Aaron isn’t doing anything in return - not that he ever was, but at least he was _aware_ that he breaking it.

Maddeningly, Josten just says, “He’s your brother.”

As if that’s the answer. They aren’t ‘brothers’ - not like that. They are related, they share the same genetics, they shared parents and the same surname. But that doesn’t mean fucking anything.

Aaron pulls a face. “The deal is over.”

“You’re right. But I’m sure that you getting your jaw broken would have made the night much worse, so you could be grateful.”

“Fuck off. I am.” That part slips out. He doesn’t want to tell Josten this, because he’ll probably go upstairs and tell Andrew that Aaron is grateful and they’ll gossip about it together. Or whatever they do in their spare time apart from fuck.

“You’re what?”

What an _asshole_. Aaron decides, for the millionth time, that he still doesn’t like him. It’s less of a realisation and more of a confirmation.

Aaron glares at him. “Don’t make me fucking say it.”

“He’s grateful,” Nicky intervenes, who is holding an ice pack to his own injury. Kevin is in the corner, still drinking, oblivious to the conversation taking place.

Josten looks like he’s about to smile, but his expression slips back into something sad after a second. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Nicky calls.

Once he’s disappeared, Nicky sighs and says, “At least Andrew’s got that.”

“Andrew doesn’t need taking care of.”

“Everybody needs taking care of, Aaron.”

“Not everyone.”

“You’ve got Katelyn, I’ve got Erik, Kevin’s got …” Nicky looks across at Kevin, who is staring at his vodka like it could solve all the issues of the world.

“Andrew doesn’t need taking care of,” Aaron repeats for a lack of anything else to say. “He doesn’t feel enough to be hurt.”

He can’t help but feel like the words burn his tongue.

* * *

He calls Katelyn that night. It’s late, but she still picks up, her honey sweet voice soothing his frayed edges almost instantly.

“It’s late, baby,” she says in lieu of hello. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says. He can already feel the tight ball of tension in his chest unravelling. It's like releasing a breath he wasn't aware he's been holding all night. “Sorry for calling late.”

“It’s fine, honey, I was up late anyway. Rosa has her boyfriend over, and they were in the shower for - well, a while.” He can hear the smile in her voice. It’s a balm which soothes him, and Aaron would give anything to hold her close to his side right now, breathe in her perfume and kiss across her cheek. But he makes do with her voice. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing big,” he says. “Just - I got punched.”

Katelyn gasps. “What? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Aaron says immediately, hating how her voice adopts that panicked tone. “Yeah, I’m fine. Honestly. It’s just a cut on my lip.”

“Oh, baby. I can still kiss you, right?”

Aaron smiles gently. “Yeah. Just not on the lips.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I can think of other places to kiss you.” Katelyn’s voice grows mischievous and Aaron’s chest aches. “But you’re seriously okay? I don’t need to fight anyone, do I?”

Aaron laughs a little. “No, I didn’t even know the guy. Anyway … Andrew fucked him up enough for me.”

He can hear Katelyn’s confusion. “Andrew? I thought that the whole thing was over.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “I thought that too.”

“Aw,” Katelyn says, still a little hesitant. Aaron hates what Andrew has done to her. She simply existed, simply loved him, and yet that is enough for Andrew to want to hurt her. Aaron can’t ever imagine hurting Katelyn. It would hurt him more than her, in all honesty. She’s not at all fragile, but he still wants to shield her with his own body, take as many blows from Andrew as he needs in order to protect her.

But Andrew doesn’t want to hurt her anymore. The deal is over.

So Andrew doesn’t need to protect him, right? Yet tonight, he still did, jumping to Aaron’s defence and knocking some random stranger on his ass because he hit him. Aaron probably could have taken care of himself, at least managed to push the bastard away rather than break his face like Andrew did.

“It doesn’t make sense. I’m still trying to - figure it out.”

“Well, he is your brother.” It’s the same thing as Josten said, and it makes Aaron grit his teeth. “Maybe you guys haven’t had the best ... relationship. But maybe he cares about you?”

“Andrew never cared about me. He cared about the _deal_. A stupid agreement I made when I was younger and didn’t know what a fucking psycho he was.” Aaron sighs again, not wanting to get riled up about the same things he’s punched walls over before. “But it’s over now. I can have you.”

“And you’ve got me,” she says softly. “But maybe Andrew is protecting you because he wants to. No deal included.”

“That doesn’t sound like him.”

“You’re right. But if you told me last year that he would end up caring for Neil in the way he does … I wouldn’t have believed it.”

Aaron fights a scowl.

“Let him care, Aaron,” Katelyn says, almost a whisper. “Even if he doesn’t, I’m always here. I’ll always care about you.”

Aaron flops against the pillow, feeling light. “I wish you were here.” He wants nothing more than to curl up into her side, pillow his head against her chest. He would let her wipe his lip, tender and caring, fall asleep entangled with her.

The fact there’s an hour journey between them almost burns.

“I wish I was there, too. But you’ll see me tomorrow, okay?” She pauses, then adds, “I love you, Aaron Michael Minyard.”

“I love you, too,” Aaron says, whispering, as if it’s a secret which he doesn’t want anybody else to know, “Katelyn Elizabeth Chapman.”

With anybody else, he puts his walls up high. He shields himself from life and people and everybody. But Katelyn is different. She’s in his heart, and with every beat, it pushes warmth around his body. He lets her in.

It feels safer than anything else he’s ever done.

* * *

The next morning, Andrew looks calmer. Settled in a way which Aaron hasn’t ever seen him. He sips his coffee, perfectly okay despite the bruise blooming on his eye and the bandage around his knuckles.

Aaron offers him a nod. He isn’t sure whether it’s a _thank you_ or a recognition that maybe, just maybe, Josten is good for him.

Whatever it is, Andrew returns it, a small jerk of the head which somehow means more than any words they could have shared.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so fun fact in urban dictionary katelyn means: fun, loving, caring person. She's an inner freak & only holds it down for one person. She's loyal, humble, and understandable. She's also beautiful.
> 
> ISN'T THAT JUST OUR GIRL???
> 
> okay thanks if u read this!! ik that aaron isn't a very popular character but he's IMPORTANT :)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks if you read this??? my fics are slowly decreasing in quality as the time goes on haha oops
> 
> PLEASE LEAVE ME A COMMENT!!! AN ESSAY, A QUICK APPRECIATION, CONSTRUCTIVE CRITISISM, WHATEVER!!! I LOVE FEEDBACK
> 
> if you have any more prompts for the soft andreil series, let me know! either on here or my tumblr - minyardthings


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